So Simple
by a frightened little girl
Summary: A short mood-piece with slight slash overtones, from Von Glower's perspective during Gabriel's nighttime stay.


SO SIMPLE  
by a frightened little girl  
  
*  
  
There is a simplicity to him I cannot fathom.  
  
A million such men I have seen, seen just like this. A million lives I  
have touched and tasted, billions of memories explored and thoughts  
unraveled, searching for that elusive whisper of perfection. Such  
complications I have wove through, challenges to both mind and body,  
wondering if I have found the right one, after all these years.  
  
And here, so simple. The light casts over his body, a curved line that  
dips and swells with breath. Arms tossed aside and about, curved rays  
converging on a darkened center. Sallow curls spread on a pillow,  
whispers of shadow that shift with the light.  
  
At peace. I dare a step further, blocking the light, the simple line of  
him receding into darkness. Scent, then, and sound. The very air tastes  
of him, a pervasive salt that I had barely noticed on our first meeting.  
It had been muted then, blocked by cloth and cold. And sound - the liquid  
intake, the hushed release of air. Steady, unwavering.  
  
Another step.  
  
He is a hunter. Not in the truest sense, no. He hunts what no other  
wants to look for - the darkness, the evil.  
  
He hunts me.  
  
Another step, and the light brushes past me, washing over his form with  
a golden gleam. It burns orange-bright over the swell of his chest, a  
circle pinpricked around the edges with red. My eyes attempt to focus on  
it and avert themselves instead, not so much with pain as the  
anticipation of it.  
  
Never before. Never has it been this simple.  
  
"Shadow hunter." The words are thin, carried on a breath too light to  
sustain. He shifts as if in response, as liquid in sight as in sound.  
Shadow hunter, who seeks me as they have all sought me, lifetimes upon  
lifetimes, without fail.  
  
I remember one, the most important. One of the men in the subsequent  
chain that led to him, the one who sought after me by name. He, too,  
I had considered from afar. But he had been too firm in his resolve,  
too blinded by duty to convince. He had hunted me and failed, as they  
all did.  
  
Now...  
  
Another step, and he lays before me. An obscenely innocent lamb spread  
along the altar, unwitting of the knife swaying above its neck. Fate  
decided only by the outcome of my conflicts, the decision I will have  
to make.  
  
I had made a mistake. After too many years worth counting I had given  
in, created another. And even that mistake had been close, closer to  
anyone I had ever found.  
  
"Garr." A cold, silent whisper. It had been worth it, for a time. His  
name, his being, his very essence was the purity of honey and wine, the  
tang and balsam of night in the woods. The taste of his lips and the  
flash of his eyes were as rich as the copper intangibles of warm blood.  
He had been so close.  
  
But now...his name is nothing but dust and ashes on my tongue.  
  
Perhaps it had not been a mistake. For Garr had unwittingly delivered  
his enemy right to his doorstep. Shadow hunter, who hunted him and by  
default must hunt me.  
  
But he is different. My hand drifts down, watching the shadow play over  
the muted glow of his skin. Duty is not so deeply ingrained in his soul,  
the solemnity of his position not as firmly established. He has withstood  
much and he can withstand more. And unlike the studious march of  
stern-faced generations before him, he retains the vibrancy of life. The  
unadorned passion for life and love and soul, pure and strong and fierce.  
  
And he lies before me, ready for the taking.  
  
My fingers dip, their shadows moving languidly along with the motion.  
The fierce burnished gleam of gold rearranges itself in front of my eyes,  
forming its familiar shape in the muted light. A circular medallion,  
depicting a lion and snake entangled together in bitter struggle. For  
a moment panic freezes my fingers, images tumbling through my mind  
without heed.  
  
This. I remember this from him, from before, from the upright dutiful  
son of a million sons who had sought me out. He brandished it with a  
childish sense of righteousness, unafraid. Cold heat streaking from  
its heart in visible rays, fire in the bluest flames of misery,  
streaking into my body with the hatred of a million saints and their  
sinful parodies. Shadow hunter, defender of the light. He had driven  
me back.  
  
I look at him again, the curve of his jaw, the swell of his lips.  
Deliberately I extend my fingers, the tips brushing against the metal  
that lifetimes ago nearly destroyed me.  
  
Warm.  
  
I encircle it and lift, its heavy weight solid in my hand. Heat spreads  
through each finger and up my arm, a balm to pains suffered so many years  
ago.  
  
Perfection. Fire and passion, living and warm beneath my fingertips.  
Accepting instead of repelling, beckoning rather than pushing away.  
  
"Gabriel," I whisper, and the flavors of life and death blend on my  
tongue in perfect symphony.  
  
A synchrony I know now I'll have lifetimes to explore.  
  
* 


End file.
